A British composer's ambitious quest to premier a requiem in the highly atmospheric Abney Park cemetery by lantern light.

Tuesday, 6 November 2012

Sheffield Folkers

Travelling from London to Sheffield by train is always a
thought-provoking experience. The first part of the journey finds the train
hurtling through a host of towns and landscapes associated with my childhood.
It passes the enormous aircraft hangers at Cardington which are impressive
enough against the flat Bedfordshire landscape, but as a child I found them
almost mystical. I don’t think I’d ever seen buildings so large. I think a huge
white zeppelin-shaped balloon used to fly above them which always seemed rather
exciting. I always wanted to see it up close, but am not sure we ever did. My
mother once told me that there was a haunted wood nearby, which had a dark, peculiar
atmosphere. I imagined that the hangers
were filled with witches, and that the air balloon flying in the sky above it
was some kind of UFO.

From Bedford, the train heads into Northamptonshire, and my
memories move from the 1970s into the 80s. There’s a glimpse of the spire of
Rushden church as the train passes above the badly-flooded meadows surrounding
the river Nene at Wellingborough. And then for a five-minute period, every
factory, every road, every field and every railway bridge holds a different
distant memory. Even the colours of the bricks on the Victorian buildings seem
somehow unique. This could only be east Northamptonshire. These are the colours
and shapes of my teenage years. The train passes the Weetabix factory at Barton
Seagrave, before charging through Kettering, and on up to Corby, and then, just
like that, the landscape is unfamiliar again. The fields are simply fields; the
buildings are just buildings. I peer along a country lane and have no idea
where it’s heading. I no longer know the
names of the villages I see nestling between the folds in the land, and barely
recognise the words I see written on the road signs which flicker past.

There’s a station called East Midlands Parkway, which seems
to be bang, slap in the middle of a power station, which is a curious concept.
The grey concrete cooling towers hang above the platforms menacingly. I think I
would not enjoy living there.

I’ve spent the day in a lonely cottage in the hills above
Sheffield with a lovely lad called Andy, who is recording the 100 Faces
project. Andy is a central figure in the British folk music scene, which seems
to be entirely centred on Sheffield. We’d periodically find ourselves staring
out across the rugged moors, and he’d point at a little cottage clinging to
another hillside, and say “the violinist from Bellowhead lives there”, “that’s
the pub where they perform the Sheffield carols,” “Kate Rusby lives in the
village just over that ridge of hills...” It’s a pretty major scene, and they
all seem to support one another, and share their expertise. They’re all pro
musicians, but their attitude towards music-making is not money-centred, which
is deeply refreshing. Sometimes I wish I were surrounded by people who could
afford to make music for the sake of making music.

Andy has a very delightful dog, whom he rescued, and
suspects was badly treated by its former owners. The dog had a terrible case of
kennel cough last year, which nearly killed him, and now, every time he hears a
person coughing, he rushes over and raises his paw; genuinely looking like he
wants to help – or at least sympathise. Dogs are such curious and wonderful
creatures.

I’m heading now to Newcastle for the next part of my
adventure. Tomorrow evening, we’re recording the English Philharmonic Orchestra
in a church in Jesmond. I have formed many ensembles from scratch, and built up
many orchestras by layering individual players or groups of players, but it’s
not often I get an opportunity to have a full orchestra, in front of me,
playing one of my compositions. It’s the sort of thing I realise I should have
asked my Dad to come and watch. I think he might have enjoyed the experience.

About Me

Composer and television director. Recent works include: A Symphony for Yorkshire (winner of 3 RTS Awards and a Prix de Circom), Tyne and Wear Metro: The Musical (winner of a Gillard award), The Pepys Motet, The London Requiem, Songs from Hattersley, A1: The Road Musical (nominated for a Grierson Award), Watford Gap: The Musical, Coventry Market: The Musical (nominated for a SONY award and recipient of two Gillard awards) and Oranges and Lemons, which features every bell in every London church mentioned in the nursery rhyme.